Something to Prove
by GreenEvans
Summary: From a prompt sent to me on Tumblr. Oliver is used to women fawning over him and how good he is in bed, but after a night with Felicity, she doesn't necessarily agree with all the hype.


**From a prompt sent to me on Tumblr**

_**Oliver is used to women fawning over him and how good he is in bed, but after a night with Felicity, she doesn't necessarily agree with all the hype. (Or does she and she's just saying that so they can keep sleeping together? - idk.. but I feel like this would make a good prompt!)**___

**And this sprung forth. **

**Note: I do not own Arrow or any of the DC characters. **

Oliver lay back against the pillows, grinning through his sated exhaustion. That had been spectacular, unbelievable, mind blowing even. He couldn't begin explain how they had managed to end up in this situation, naked and panting in Felicity's bed. But they had, by some magnificent twist of fate, and Oliver could not be more pleased.

He looked over at Felicity, a slight sheen of sweat on her skin, her chest rising and falling quickly with her breath. She looked beautiful. And not only because they'd just had sex; she always looked beautiful. "That was… wow," was all he could say to describe the amazing experience they just shared.

"I'm sorry, but I don't see what the big deal is," Felicity commented. "I mean, you're _big,_" she gestured toward his groin, "obviously, but from all the rumors I've heard about the 'playboy Oliver Queen', I guess I was expecting more…" she trailed off, her hands miming giant explosions.

Oliver leaned up on an elbow, facing her, a severely perplexed and offended look on his face. "Wait," he said loudly, "are you telling me you didn't-" he gestured wildly with his free hand, "you know, _finish_?" he asked in an emphasized and awkward whisper.

"Oh no, I did," Felicity assured him. "And it was quite satisfactory, but it was more like," her fingers flicked tiny fireworks, "than," her hands repeated the giant explosion mime. She even included sound effects. "Sorry," she added with a small shrug.

_Satisfactory._ The word rang through his brain, through his whole body. Satisfactory was _average_. Oliver Queen was far from average in the bedroom. He had a reputation to uphold!

And beyond that, he wanted Felicity to think he was the best she's ever had.

The thought of wanting to show Felicity how above average, how outstanding, how _A+_ he was at sex proved instantly arousing for Oliver. (And the sight of her beside him, hair fanned across the pillow, wearing nothing but the sheet he was sharing did not hurt matters, either).

He rolled on top of her, his hard length pressing into her thigh. "Well I hope you're ready for Round Two, then," he told her, crashing his lips to hers.

They'd been shagging all weekend. All. Weekend. They literally had not left Felicity's apartment since Friday afternoon. Arrow duties be damned. He was on a different mission.

And all he'd managed to scrape was an 'above average'. What the actual fuck. If he weren't so damn stubborn, he would have thrown in the towel long ago.

But this was _Felicity!_ She needed mind-blowing sex, and he, Oliver Queen, needed to be the one to give it to her. Repeatedly. Nightly.

Though right now he would be happy with one mind-blowing bout of sex.

She said she thoroughly enjoyed the sex, and she finished every time (she was not shy about telling him), sometimes she finished twice (mental high five for Oliver), but she insisted it wasn't what she imagined based off the rumors circulating the city about him.

Oliver had never worked so hard to physically please a woman.

But he had never met a woman who deserved it more.

Walking into the kitchen, he leaned against the doorframe, watching Felicity as she scrambled eggs. She was wearing his dress shirt, the tails of it coming just to the top of her thighs. She shifts back and forth in the kitchen, the shirt swinging and Oliver can see the dress shirt was the _only_ thing she was wearing.

It was that moment, with her making him breakfast clad only in his shirt, that Oliver realized he was in love with Felicity.

The awareness, the understanding, left him breathless. If he hadn't been leaning against the doorframe he would have fallen. He stood staring at her back as the comprehension fully sunk into his brain. Everything in his life made sense to him now. From the Arrow Cave to the Queen Consolidated boardroom.

Felicity turned and saw him watching her. "Hi," she said softly, a small smile on her lips. Her hair was pulled in a messy bun, tendrils of hair falling around her face, the sunlight highlighting her face, and in that moment she looked so serenely beautiful, Oliver was awestruck.

Oliver walked toward her, eyes never leaving her face. One had cupped her jaw, tilting her head back to meet his eyes, the other reached behind her to turn off the stove. Safety first, especially for what Oliver had in mind.

He stared into her eyes (why had he never realized how they changed from blue to silver), his fingers toying with the strands of her hair (had it always been this soft), his free hand undoing the buttons of the shirt one at a time.

"Oliver," she began, but he silenced her with a kiss. Kissing Felicity, Oliver had discovered, was one of the most wondrous things he had experience in his life. He knew at the beginning of the weekend he would be happy spending the rest of his life kissing her. Now, realizing how in love with her he was, he _needed_ to spend the rest of his life kissing her to be happy.

This kiss was different from the others of the weekend. Those kisses had been hot with passion, a quick burning fire. This kiss was intense with a long, sizzling, slow burn. This kiss would last for decades. Her fingernails scraped along his jaw igniting tiny sparks over his skin as her hands moved to cup his face. He would never get enough of her.

His hand ghosted over her stomach, around her back, down her ass. Her skin was always so soft. How had he survived not touching it for so long? He picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and swung her onto the kitchen table.

Oliver's hand grazed from her ass along her hip and up her side to her breast. Felicity moaned against his lips and arched into him, her hips pressing closer into his. He kissed his way along her neck, down her chest. He marveled at her breasts; they were the perfect size. His hands cupping and caressing her breasts, his lips massaging her nipples, as her hands ran through his hair holding him to her.

Leaning Felicity back on the table, Oliver made his way down her smooth, soft stomach. She squirmed against him as his beard tickled her. He loved how ticklish she was. He loved what her squirming against him from being tickled did to his body. Yesterday had been full of discoveries, and that one might have been his favorite.

Her hands ran through his hair, nails dragging over his skin, as he kissed inside her thigh. Felicity sighed longingly as he traversed closer to his destination. She cried out at the first lick along her folds, her hands clutching reflexively into his shoulders. Oliver loved how vocal she was during sex. Sure she talked a lot all the time, but in bed was different. It was more intimate, more revealing of the true Felicity.

Oliver licked and sucked at her clit, his attentions fueled by her moans and gasps, her hands combing through his hair. He slid a finger inside her, stroking her in time with the movements of his tongue, with the sounds of her cries. She was so wet, her body so responsive, he loved that he could do that to her.

Having realized he loved her, Oliver wanted more than ever now to give Felicity the mind-blowing-forget-all-previous-partners-only-remember-his-name sex that had been his goal all weekend. The difference was now it wasn't to uphold the honor of his male ego and libido; now it was because he loved her and she deserved it and he wanted to give her everything.

Her hands dug urgently into his scalp, her legs tightening on his shoulders as his tongue and fingers worked to bring her a mind-numbing orgasm. Her moans and gasps changed, her body curled up then arched off the table, crying his name through her climax.

Oliver kissed up her body, her chest panting and her muscles quivering. Her hands grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him eagerly. Arousal spiked in Oliver, knowing that Felicity could taste _herself_ on his tongue. God, that was hot.

Her hands left his face and slid down his bare chest to his pajama pants. Felicity gripped him through the cloth before slipping a hand under the waistband and stroking his length. He groaned at the feel of her soft hand, murmuring her name against her lips.

Felicity pushed his pants to his knees, her legs wrapping around his hips to pull him closer, and guided his length inside her. Oliver loved when she did that. Resting his forehead on hers, he never took his eyes from Felicity's as he pushed inside her.

His eyes never left hers as he pulled out and set a slow and steady rhythm. Felicity stared back, gasping in time with his thrusts, her breathing growing more rapid, and Oliver felt it was only partially from the sex. He felt like she was gazing into his soul and every emotion he ever felt for her was being bared through his eyes.

Oliver pulled her to him, her bare chest meeting his, one hand in her hair, one hand gripping her back beneath his shirt. He would never be able to look at this shirt again without thinking of Felicity in it, naked and writhing under his ministrations. He kissed her, trying to convey what he felt for her, how he now realized he was in love with her.

Felicity broke the kiss, her head falling back as she gasped and moaned as his hips kept moving into hers, her blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders. Goodness, she was beautiful.

Oliver was suddenly in awe that Felicity would think he was good enough for her, that she could be intimate with him. It was a thought that was quickly overshadowed by Felicity's growing exclamations of pleasure.

When Felicity came, it was with a loud cry of his name that struck to Oliver's heart, to his very core, and his orgasm soon followed, gasping her name against her lips in a hoarse whisper.

They stayed in each other's arms for some moments, just holding each other, her head in his shoulder, his hand stroking her hair. Oliver could have remained in that moment forever.

"Oh, oh dear," Felicity said breathlessly when they finally broke apart. She was still sitting on the kitchen table as Oliver pulled up his pajama pants. "I think I nearly blacked out again."

"Again?" Oliver repeated pausing while retying his drawstring. Comprehension dawned on him. "Have you been…_holding back_ this whole weekend?" he asked aghast.

"Well, it was fun!" she defended herself. "And I, you know, wanted it to keep happening, and knowing you and knowing the male ego, I figured it was the best way to keep the sex happening."

He stared at her, slightly flabbergasted, slightly amused. Resting his hands on the table, on either side of her, he pressed his lips to hers. "You're a diabolical genius."

"It's one of the job skill requirements for having an Executive Assistant to a CEO Playboy secret identity," Felicity replied casually, a small smile playing on her lips. "It also comes in handy being the computer hacking genius behind the vigilante's adventures."

"I love you," Oliver blurted suddenly.

She paused. "What?" she asked. Her voice was flat and short, her eyes were wide behind her glasses as they stared at each other.

"I-I love you," he repeated. His heart pounded in his ears. His voice wobbled with stunned truth as he spoke. "I'm in love with you." He felt as shocked as she looked. _Why_ had he said it like? Him standing half naked in the kitchen, her sitting mostly naked on the table they'd just had sex – made love – on? Why hadn't he thought this through, planned an eloquent dinner, a romantic evening to profess his love (never mind they weren't even technically dating)? Clearly Felicity Smoak's rambling habits were rubbing off on him.

Closing her eyes, Felicity shook her head slightly. "That's just the hormones talking," she explained for him. "The hormones released post orgasm can alter your brain chemistry to make you feel or say or do things you usually wouldn't," she began to babble, her attention on her hands as she logically explained his confession. "Your body has been flooded with a chemical cocktail of oxytocin, endorphins, phenylethylamine, and serotonin, and I'm sure the testosterone and adrenaline aren't helping matters in terms of coherent conversation. You probably have deficiency in prolactin, which would explain-"

Oliver cut her words off with a kiss. A gentle kiss full of the emotion he felt in his heart. "I love you," he said distinctly, steadily, sincerely. "I'm in love with you. I realized when I saw you making me breakfast. No hormone manipulation needed," he added with a smile.

Felicity returned his smile. "So much for breakfast," she said softly. Her eyes hadn't left his since the kiss. Oliver knew she searching for the truth; he never had been able to hide much from her. Not like with others in his life.

"I'll take you out," he said. What would a date with Felicity be like? Oliver couldn't wait to find out.

A mischievous smile lite her face. "Later. I have another idea in mind," she told him, taking his hand a pulling him toward her bedroom.

**This took on a mind of its own. **

**Thank you to the anon who submitted it to me. **

**(also I think I might have been half drunk when much of this was written)**

**Please leave your thoughts and feedback. Constructive only, no hate. Thanks!**


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